Pedal to the Metal
by dS-Tiff
Summary: Ray and Fraser drive to Sault Sainte Marie to solve the mystery of the Robert Mackenzie. Missing scene from Mountie on the Bounty (Part 1).
_**I first wrote this back in 2011 as part of a Missing Scene Challenge on the due South Forum. I thought it was time I dusted it down, gave it a polish and posted it here too. I hope you enjoy it. All comments welcome. Thank you kindly!**_

PEDAL TO THE METAL.

"Alright, say we drive like hell. I mean, put the pedal to the metal...can we get to, er…Sault Sainte Marie and get on the Henry Anderson before she sails?" Ray had a feeling he was going to regret asking that.

"Allen," Fraser corrected. "Henry Allen."

Ray smiled ruefully. _He's doing it again,_ he thought to himself.

"Yes," finished Fraser.

"Right, Allen," Ray agreed, reluctantly.

Fraser nodded slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable as he realised what he'd done…again.

Ray stared at his partner for a moment, trying to make a decision. _C'mon Kowalski, you can't not do this..._

His head was beginning to spin.

"Go on," he said suddenly and grabbing his jacket off the car he opened the door and got into the driving seat.

As Fraser settled himself in the passenger seat, Ray switched on the car headlights and they drove off into the night.

They travelled in silence for the first hour. Fraser stared out of the side window, his elbow balanced on the inside of the door with his chin resting on his knuckles.

Ray just drove as fast as he could. He knew they had to be on that ship before she sailed if they had any hope of figuring out what the hell was going on. All this talk of pirates and treasure and now ghost ships was beginning to freak him out. As he'd stood on the dockside before, listening to Fraser tell him about the Robert McKenzie, he knew that he couldn't let it go and he knew that Fraser wasn't going to let it go either. Fraser had become quite emotional as he'd told of how those thirty two men had lost their lives in the early hours of that cold November day. Something was going on and they just had to find out what it was.

Ray glanced sideways at his Mountie friend as they hit the open freeway. He watched as Fraser's tongue darted out and coated his lower lip and he knew his buddy was deep in thought. Fraser didn't go quiet for this long very often. There was always an anecdote to be told, or a fascinating piece of knowledge to be imparted – which Ray usually found anything but fascinating – but there had been nothing at all from the Mountie since they'd set off and Ray was feeling very uncomfortable about it. He knew it was his fault.

 _Why did I hit him…?_ Ray wished he had an answer for himself, but he didn't. _That look on his face…why did I do it? Why do I always do this? Why do I always drive people away…?_ He quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

Fraser was thinking about what his father had said to him. 'You need the Yank. Swallow the pride, son,' he'd said.

 _Have I ruined this with my pride?_ _Am I really so incapable of letting Ray be himself, of letting him do things his way, of trusting his judgement, that I've ruined one of the best partnerships I've ever had? One of the best friendships…?_

Fraser glanced across at Ray. Not that long ago the concept of having a close friend seemed like a distant dream, but now he had two. The probability that they would both be called Ray was…well, now was not the time to consider statistics, he realised. The innocence of youth had made it easier to form friendships, but in adulthood Fraser had found it almost impossible and he'd had only ever had colleagues and acquaintances, not true friends. No one that really mattered. No one who really understood him. No one who he could trust. _I do trust him, I trust him with my life. Why can't I make him see that…?_

Ray couldn't stand the silence any more. "Fraser," he said, quietly.

Fraser's head snapped round to look at his friend. "Yes Ray?" he said, trying to sound as nonplussed as he could.

"Er, what d'ya think's goin' on?" asked Ray, desperately trying to make conversation.

"I'm not entirely sure at this juncture," admitted Fraser, glad of the opportunity to talk about the case for a while. "It's clear that criminal activity is taking place on the Henry Allen, but with regards to the exact nature of said activity, I'm afraid I can only offer conjecture."

"But y'don't believe in ghosts, or nothin' like that, right?" Ray asked, with half a smile.

"Ghosts?" Fraser hesitated for a moment. His father's appearances were one thing, but an entire ship? Even he found that impossible to believe. "Well, that's just silly, Ray."

"Right," replied Ray, nodding with relief. He stared at the road ahead as the first pangs of exhaustion began to niggle. He wasn't sure what else to say, but Fraser spoke again instead.

"Ray," he began.

Ray glanced at him and then turned his eyes back to the road.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doin' what?" replied Ray with a shrug. "Drivin' through the night to get on a boat headin' to somewhere in the frozen north so y'can get me into god knows what kinda trouble, y'mean?"

"Well, I wouldn't have put it like that exactly..." began Fraser, but Ray interrupted him.

"Oh, what a surprise," he sneered sarcastically. "Well tell me, Fraser, tell me, er…how exactly would you've put it, huh? How exactly could you've improved on what I just said? 'Cause I'm clearly not even able to say stuff right anymore!" Ray's nostrils flared as he felt he anger rising inside of him again, eliminating any signs of fatigue.

"Ray, please," Fraser tried to stay calm. "Please don't do this again. I don't want to fight with you."

Ray took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself slightly. "Sorry," he said quickly.

"For one thing," Fraser continued, even though something in the back of his mind was yelling at him to stop talking. "The climate in that region is comparable to that of Chicago and..."

"Shut up, Fraser!"

They managed to remain silent for another hour and a half until eventually Fraser spoke.

"Ray, why don't you let me drive for a while?" he suggested. "You should get some sleep. Driving whilst tired can be very dangerous, your concentration and reaction times are significantly reduced."

"I'm not tired Fraser," replied Ray, curtly, stifling a yawn.

"Ray, please don't feel the need to punish yourself," Fraser said, quietly. "All of this is entirely my fault."

Ray looked at him incredulously. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" he said, screwing his face up into a puzzled frown.

"Ray Vecchio once told me that I was the most irritating man in the world," continued Fraser. "I assure you that it is not my intention to irritate anyone, least of all you. I don't actively choose to annoy you. I wish I could stop it, but I'm afraid I can't change overnight."

Ray suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. He sighed. "Vecchio was right," he said, without making eye contact with Fraser.

Fraser nodded.

"OK you drive," continued Ray, opening the car door and walking round to the other side of the car.

Fraser got out of the car and began removing his Sam Browne and undoing the buttons on his tunic. Ray watched as he folded his tunic perfectly and placed it neatly on the back seat of the car, together with his belt, right next to Ray's jacket which lay in a dishevelled heap where he had thrown it.

"I'm not askin' you to change, Fraser," Ray said, quietly. Fraser looked back at his friend, he could tell that Ray was being sincere, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. They got back into the car and set off. "Remember we got a boat to catch," reminded Ray. "So y'gotta drive faster than Dale Earnhardt can get across Daytona Beach."

"Understood," nodded Fraser and put his foot down.

As the engine purred Ray felt his eyelids closing. He didn't really want to sleep - he didn't want Fraser to think that he couldn't stay awake when Fraser clearly could - but the truth was he hadn't slept at all the previous night. His fight with Fraser had been playing on his mind and he'd laid awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine what his life would be like without his partner by his side. He didn't like it, not one bit, but things had gone too far now, surely?

 _There's no going back now..._

They'd agreed that this would be their last case and then they'd both take their transfers and go their separate ways. Eventually the real Ray Vecchio would come back and probably partner up with Fraser again somehow, he assumed sadly.

 _I know I can never compete with Vecchio…_ Ray drifted off to sleep.

Fraser stared at the road ahead as he drove. He could tell that Ray was asleep and he hoped that he'd wake a little more focussed. There was so much he wanted to say to him, but Fraser wasn't very good at expressing his feelings. His father had always told him that it wasn't something that real men do and every time he tried to formulate a sentence on the subject it just didn't sound right at all.

Fraser wanted Ray to understand that he was so used to being alone that he was struggling to learn how best to work as one half of a partnership. He wanted to learn – desperately - but sometimes those old feelings of only having his own thoughts to rely on came rushing back and he couldn't do anything about it. He'd grown up knowing that he had to trust his own decisions in order to survive and the give and take that naturally had to exist in a partnership was still difficult for him.

Fraser had learnt so much about friendship from the real Ray Vecchio and he'd tried to use that newly acquired knowledge with the new Ray, but now he felt like he'd failed. He knew Ray often needed reassurance, that was his nature. He was always doubting himself and Fraser wished he could help him get over that, but it was probably too late now. They'd solve this last case and he'd head back to Canada and Ray would get his own identity back and that would be the end of their partnership, of their friendship. Fraser sighed. This wasn't what he wanted at all.

After a little over two hours, Ray woke suddenly. "Are we there yet?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, Ray," replied Fraser. "And we're running low on fuel, we should stop here." He nodded ahead and Ray could see the lights of a service station.

Fraser pulled into the forecourt and carefully manoeuvred the car into position beside a pump.

"You fill her up," Ray instructed as he opened the car door. "I need the bathroom…and coffee. Can I getcha some?"

"Coffee? No, thank you," replied Fraser and he began refuelling the car.

Ray shrugged and walked off. He returned a few minutes later to find Fraser wiping excess fuel from around the fuel cap with a paper towel. Fraser looked up when he heard Ray's footsteps.

"No one does that, Fraser," said Ray, sipping at his coffee.

"Then why do they supply these?" asked Fraser, holding up the soiled paper towel before depositing it in the waste bin. "It only takes a small amount of gasoline to come in contact with a spark and…"

"OK, I get it," snapped Ray, holding up his hand to stop Fraser speaking. "I heard you got a, er, a thing for blowin' up cars, but I don't need a safety lecture."

Fraser nodded and looked despondently at the floor. He'd done it again – he'd annoyed Ray. He hadn't meant to, but then he never did.

"Here," said Ray suddenly.

Fraser looked up just in time to see a bottle of orange juice flying towards him. He plucked it from the air with one hand.

"Got you an OJ," said Ray, somewhat redundantly.

"Thank you kindly."

"OK, buddy," said Ray, running his free hand through his hair as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. "I'll drive the rest of the way."

Fraser wasn't entirely convinced that Ray had had enough sleep, but he didn't want to argue and so he got into the passenger seat.

Ray finished the last of his coffee and pulled away, glad he'd managed to get at least some sleep. He began to think about what they may find on the Henry Allen. He hated boats and he hated the water. He couldn't swim although he'd never told Fraser that before yesterday. He wasn't sure why he'd kept it quiet exactly, it was just something else that made him feel entirely inadequate next to his partner. Ray was sure Fraser was probably the holder of every swimming record in Canada. He sighed again. Fraser was still quiet.

They drove for another three hours without a break and eventually the sun began to rise, bathing the road ahead in light. Occasionally, one or other of them made a comment about the case, but they were both avoiding talking about what they should have been talking about. Ray wondered how Fraser managed to stay awake. He didn't notice him yawn once, or rub his eyes, or do anything that resembled showing a hint of fatigue. Ray could tell that the prospect of working in what would effectively be an undercover situation on the Henry Allen was making Fraser feel quite tense, although with every mile they put on the clock Ray was sure that his partner seemed more relaxed.

 _Does he hate being in Chicago that much…?_ _Perhaps this transfer is what he really wants. Any excuse to get home. Maybe that's it…?_

Finally they reached the waterfront and before they got out of the car Fraser took a moment to brief Ray again on his plan, even though he'd already been through it more than once.

"I know what I'm doing Fraser," Ray said, slightly exasperated. "I've spent the last year undercover, this is gonna to be a piece of cake. I just wanna get it over with so we can get back and..." but his voice trailed off as he realised that he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do when he got back to Chicago.

"Ray, do you intend to take your transfer?" Fraser asked, quietly.

Ray thought for a moment, took a deep breath and turned to look at his partner. He knew there was no point lying to him, Fraser would see straight through the deception. "Dunno yet," he replied, finally. "You?"

Fraser hesitated too, just for a brief moment and then he answered the only way he knew how - honestly. "At this juncture…I have no idea."

THE END.


End file.
